


Not exactly Mills and Boon

by SiobhanMcG



Category: Holby City
Genre: Can't pray the gay away, F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Hot vascular trauma surgery, I am weak for awkward scenes with too much physical contact and such, I couldn't help myself I'm so sorry, Pre-Series, Serena comfortably exploring her sexuality, Slowburn with pace all over the place, Unfortunate events of heterosexuality, University AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-04 14:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiobhanMcG/pseuds/SiobhanMcG
Summary: AU where a very bored Serena decides on a visit to the local library, only to find out she isn't the only one mad enough to visit the library during her break. Sitting in one of the aisles, peering at journals she finds herself one Berenice Wolfe, head tilted horizontally and carrying an inhumane amount of books. Intrigued with each other they sit together, exploring one another slowly, but slowly burn their fingers.





	1. New girl in town

Serena flopped back onto her bed, staring up through the skylight. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight. She mused, her thoughts drifting off to replace the clouds in the sky. The upcoming term would be the start of her last year as an undergraduate in general medicine. She had already decided on her specialism, knowing she could finally publish the results from her latest research project in September. Hopefully, it would be published. Though, she couldn’t help but long for more; the recognition, seeing her own name in print where it meant something. Serena had plans, and those plans included Harvard. She was determined to be one of the first women to be a vascular consultant, as opposed to becoming a GP; tired of the constant stream of patronising comments that kept coming her way. Serena rolled onto her side, shaking off her daydreams. She felt a bit ridiculous, fantasising on her bed. She chuckled, that had sounded much dirtier than it was. _Serena McKinnie. Get your head out of your knickers she scolded herself internally._

She stared at the wall next to her bed, trying to trace patterns on the rough surface of the wall. It hurt her fingers a little. _God, was she bored._ The past few weeks had been stifling. The heat clung to her skin, suffocating and burning at the same time. Her friends from university had scattered throughout the country for the holidays, and her mother had insisted she’d be home for at least part of the summer. There hadn’t been much to do around the village. She rolled over again, swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.  
The dust motes were dancing in the sunlight as she wandered down stairs, trailing her hands over the smooth surface of the wooden rail. The particles floated in the air, almost as if unaffected by gravity. As a child they used to fascinate her, she would sit on the staircase watching, sometimes trying to catch one. _But not today._

As she walked into the kitchen, she could see her father working in his shed at the end of the garden. Her mother was standing at the kitchen counter, making jam. Personally, she didn’t have a clue how to do anything of this, although she had become particularly skilled at using whatever was at hand to uncork a bottle of wine. When she was younger they would visit her grandmother's garden to pick apples, occasionally taking them to the local greengrocer’s in exchange for raspberries and strawberries. Family and friends leaving with bags of misshapen apples each time they visited. Her grandmother would then make jam out of them, Mum helping her. Then in the afternoon Adrienne would start on her own jams and whatever else. Meaning Serena would be eating jam for months to come, with several jars finding their place in the back of her cupboard to be left there for the next generation of students in her hall. The last jar of the previous summer had only been finished a week after the end of term, in some wonky alcoholic concoction by her roommate. Upon entering Serena greeted her mother, who replied with a noncommittal murmur, before walking out.

It was quiet outside, only broken by the occasional chirping. As she walked down her street, the pavement with its uneven flagstones that definitely needed repairing. She could feel the heat reflecting from the path through the thin soles of her shoes. She passed the parked cars, trailing her finger along the metalwork to leave thin lines in the dust. The sun-baked cars left her fingertips with a burning sensation. _Definitely bored._ She had lived her all her life in this village until going to college, but it felt foreign. She hadn’t gone to the local high school or boarding school, which had left her not really knowing anyone. She supposed was familiar enough with the newsagent’s, the baker, and the old librarian, but they didn’t make for great conversation over a bottle of wine. 

Dawdling towards the village, kicking stones as she went, she decided to maybe get a drink at the pub, or to pick up something at the bakers. Even the high street was quiet, the only sound audible was the odd muffled noise of an Oasis song somewhere in the distance.  
The bakers smelled the same as it always had, and Serena could not help but pick the same as she always had - pain au chocolat. Ian gave her a smile as she waved the roll at him to indicate her choice. They chatted for a little bit, about how life at university was, the antics in her halls and the socials in the Student Union. He asked her if she had found a boyfriend yet, at which she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She wasn't spending all those hours cramming in the university library into the early hours to just run of with the first guy that came her way- _not to mention all the money spent on coffee in the student café._  
Truthfully, she didn't understand how any self-respecting woman who had survived years worth of medical training and exams could just throw herself at the first available man after graduation. Ian simply chuckled something about "finding the right one" in reaction to her rant. They continued chatting, Serena loving the gossipy nature from Ian and all the changes in the village since her last trip home at Christmas. 

Her interest piqued when Ian said that the library had extended its collection tremendously and there was a new librarian who was also a medical student, he noted with a cheeky wink. Some foreign exchange student who had needed a job apparently, not that it interested her much. There were enough foreign exchange students back at university; they had yet to live up to the "great sensual lovers" promise that went with the foreign adjective. _Most are American or German anyway, not exactly what you'd call exotic._ However, the prospect of discovering hidden gems amongst the Mills and Boon and fishing guides appealed to her more than she’d like to admit. 

With that in mind she set off towards the library. The library was in stark contrast to the five storey block of concrete of university; it used to be the old village school before closing and then re-opening as a quirky mix of community centre, Police station, library, and tourist information centre. The reflection of the sun from the white painted building causing her eyes to squint with the glare. The heavy heat weighing her down, making the shaded interior visible beyond the doorframe even more attractive. Relaxing, as she walked in and letting the cool air surround her. 

The light coming through the high windows of the entrance hall was absorbed by the dark wooden panelling giving the feel of something comforting. This hasn’t changed in years, Serena thought, tapestries and maps guiding you through to the wrought iron staircase leading to offices and the library. 

Now that she had cooled down, Serena could feel the sweat on her skin. Her blouse stuck to her back and her hair was plastered to her the sides of her head. _Yuk._ She tried dabbing herself into a slightly more presentable state and removed some of the smudged lipstick and mascara from the edges of her mouth and eyes. Not that there was much of a point in looking good in a library, but in case the mystery foreign student happened to be a catch, she would be ready for it.

Arriving at the top of the staircase, her initial suspicions were proven right. The exchange student was a far throw from exotic or wildly attractive if anything he came across slightly aloof. He was a rather tall and skinny man, curls hanging like curtains around his face. He greeted her as she arrived, his accent throwing her off slightly. After a rather stiff introduction she found out he was called Henrik, now studying in the UK for his post-doc. After exchanging pleasantries and the obligatory discussion of their research, he gave her some recommendations of the new books and the collection of medical journals available. When she finally walked off, Serena was far more excited than she’d like to admit. _God! The situation was really dire if the same books and journals that she would have loved to burn a month ago in during her exams were now practically making her skip around._

Having reached the back shelves where non-fiction and journals were kept, she suddenly stopped. She had expected to be the only person mad and lonely enough to spend her afternoon in the library, apparently not. In front of the shelves was another girl, kneeling down with her head tilted horizontally, inspecting the books on the shelf. The first thing Serena noticed about the other girl was her long hair, tied together loosely, it would probably reach her lower back if she stood straight. She couldn't quite place the colour, it was a mixture of blond and red. It seemed she wasn't aware of her presence; not wanting to scare her Serena coughed softly. She turned her head and stood straight, Serena now noticed how she was holding an impressive stack of books in her right arm.

"Did you want to…?" The other girl gestured awkwardly towards the shelf, moving away slightly so Serena could reach it. 

"Oh no. I- er, just wanted to look." she stammered. "I didn't want to sneak up on you." _Oh great job Serena, not creepy at all._

They stood still for a moment, staring awkwardly at each other. Serena noticed the girl was dressed rather conservatively, it was a wonder she hadn't overheated yet. She wore a long pleated navy skirt with two rows of golden buttons on the front. Where the skirt cinched at her waist, a pink blouse with a high collar and a white frill was tucked in. Beneath the skirt she wore dark leather loafers. Altogether she looked like how Adrienne would have wanted Serena to look. Serena had shaken off the conservative look the moment she had seen her parents drive away from her halls after dropping her off. Ten years in a Catholic all-girls school had provided her with enough conservative dress codes to last her a lifetime. Not to mention she loved her leopard skirt and dangling earrings.

Returning to the situation in front of her, she managed to smirk at the blonde and turned to the shelves to inspect the books. Henrik hadn't been wrong, it was actually rather impressive that their library had somehow got their hands on all these journals. She even spotted a journal describing the Morris-Lecar model; although she had to admit she wasn't really one for neuroscience. Secretly, she had always much preferred the rougher and bloodier work, even if it was only to scare off the pretentious politics and economics pricks in the student union. 

As Serena glanced over at the other girl who was now browsing a shelf a further down the aisle and noticed the massive stack of books in her arms. _Must be stronger than she looks, I'd have brought a bag- or a man, if I was planning on carrying this many books._ All her books seemed to be on medicine and surgical procedures. _Ah, so that's where the surgical journals went._ Except a few at the bottom, that she couldn't quite make out. As by the rule of secret glances, the girl now looked up at Serena.  
"So that's where 'Advances and technological developments in bypass stenting' went" she attempted to joke. To her relief her comment seemed to have broken the ice. The blonde smiled and approached Serena, who now let the breath she had been holding escape. She extended her hand towards Serena. 

"Berenice Wolfe". 

"Serena Campbell" she offered in return. "Nice to meet you, Berenice." 

“Please call me Bernie," Berenice replied "Only my parents and professors ever call me Berenice." as she crinkled her nose. _Oh, she's rather adorable when she does that._

"I hope you're studying medicine, or you're concerning me with ‘The Handbook of Cardiothoracic Surgery'." 

“Ha!” Bernie exclaimed loudly. Earning them a raised eyebrow from Henrik who had turned to look at them. “Currently specialising in trauma surgery." There was a hint of pride in her voice.

“Oh, impressive. You must know how to show a girl a good time.” It was out before she realised. The blonde was blushing. “Who doesn’t like some hot vascular trauma surgery” She winked as Bernie flushed even redder. _Getting more adorable by the minute._

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you. Didn’t expect to find someone else here, especially not a girl. Not that that’s bad...” Serena started to stutter “It’s actually rather nice, having girls around. There aren’t many at uni... well, no normal ones anyway.” Serena was starting to turn red now.

“Agreed.” Serena looked up “Far too many boys indeed. Not to mention the leeches in law and economics.” And with that, the ice was broken for the second time that day.

“Shall we get a table, I do believe I have expectations to fulfil,” _Huh?_ “Showing you a good time?” It was Bernie’s turn to wink.

“Well, lead the way Miss Wolfe.” And she offered Bernie her elbow.

They spend the remainder of the day browsing books and journals together. Bernie turned out to be a couple of years older than herself, and absolutely brilliant. Based on her clothes, Serena had expected her to be a bit of a stuck-up, conservative cow, but Bernie had quickly proven herself to be rather sharp, if somewhat shy.

They spend their time alternating between companionable silence and soft chatter, exchanging stories about their respective halls and research projects. Laughing about how they had gotten sprayed in a variety of human fluids on certain occasions, or how Serena had needed to do a dissection in sunglasses after a particularly joyous night out. Serena shared her passion for chocolate pastries; conspiringly whispering how no one beat Ian's though. Bernie on the other hand, was more fond of savoury snacks and always out to try new varieties and types of fruits. The shadows were slowly stretching themselves out into the fading light surrounding the two girls. The sun was starting to disappear as they stood outside the building.

"It was nice meeting you.." Serena said  


"And you."  


"So..." Bernie looked away and said nothing. Serena fiddled with her earring.  


"Tomorrow..." _Why was this suddenly so difficult again?_ Serena swallowed before collecting her wits and continuing "Would you like to meet again? Tomorrow?"  


Bernie had raised her eyes and was now staring through her fringe.  


"At the library?"  


"Yes- Only if you'd like that, any other place would also be fine. The pub, or the park or-"  


"The library is fine." Bernie interrupted.  


"Ah. That's settled then, I'll see you tomorrow?"  


"Good night Serena."  


"You too Bernie."  


Serena's legs carried her home without much thought. Bernie intrigued her, she wasn't sure why or how, but she did. Dinner passed without much preamble. Adrienne went on about the jam she had been making, her father only adding the occasional hum of agreement.  
No one noticed Serena had forgotten her focus during her visit to the library. She dreamed a seemingly dreamless night, only fleeting touch of warmth and comfort clouding her mind when she woke up again.


	2. Pastries, persimmons and arm wrestling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A library/summer!AU in which Bernie and Serena meet as students while they are browsing the library out of boredom. Bernie is new in town and Serena is out to impress, will she succeed and will their friendship last over summer, or could it develop into something more?

It dawned on her that they hadn't agreed on a time yesterday. Should she go in the morning and wait? Would that be too eager? What time did she go yesterday, somewhere after lunch? But what if Bernie was early and thought Serena had stood her up? Most importantly, why did she care so much?! She settled on noon. _Not too early, not too late; not overbearing, not uncaring._

Both the book shelves and the tables were standing out in their lack of a certain blonde. Serena huffed loudly in annoyance, granting her a raised eyebrow from Henrik. Undeterred, she moved to the shelves to browse some more. ‘101 Uncanny Historical Medical Conditions’ caught her eye. Not her usual cup of tea, but it gave her something to discuss for when Berenice, Bernie would finally get here. An hour and 43 historical case studies ( _most of those probably caused by allergic reactions and vitamin deficits_ ) later, there was still no sign of Bernie. Serena decided that a bathroom break was in order. She looked up at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands.

Serena felt a bit foolish in her earlier eagerness. She had known Bernie for less than a day, why did she care so much whether or not a perfect stranger had stood her up? It all felt a bit obsessive and strange, knowing she shouldn't care. She was barely registering that she was still moving her hands under the stream of water. But she did care, an awful lot in fact. Buried within herself she found a curiosity to learn everything she could about this girl. Where she came from, how she got into medicine, why she was at the library in the middle of summer, what her favourite fruits were, what she looked like crying or laughing, _how she would feel...?_

Serena cut herself off before she could go any further, splashed some water in face and watched her thoughts flush down the sink. Or at least from the surface of her mind. Deep down she recognised this particular stream of thought, she had let it flow through her fingers once before and it had let to a flood that carried her so far adrift she hadn’t been able to see land anymore. _Stepney._ It whirred in deep pools of her mind, but she didn’t allow it raise to the surface; not consciously at least.

As she passed Henrik on her way back he shot her a conspicuous look. _What now._ Reaching the table her heart skipped a beat. Bernie was finally there. _But why had her heart skipped a beat?_ Serena couldn't help but shoot her a wide smile.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

"As did I."

Serena shot her a questioning look as Bernie turned away slightly, before grinning a little. "I remembered what you said yesterday and..."

"And?" Serena enquired, eyebrows arching upwards.

"I thought I'd get you… us something to eat," Bernie produced a white paper bag from under the table "but I may have got a bit lost on the way." She was a little flustered now, offering the bag to Serena, who took out a chocolate croissant.

"Well, I can't be cross at you when you bring me pastries like this, can I?" Serena smiled.

"Preferably not."

"So, would you like to learn about a wide variety of slightly revolting medical conditions; most of them misdiagnosed?" Serena said, smiling at Bernie.

"Lead the way Doctor McKinnie." Bernie offered, waving her hand in an encouraging gesture.

The remainder of their afternoon was spent discussing various medical oddities, and ultimately their own lives. Serena noticed how Bernie was in fact neither shy nor soft-spoken, correcting her previous observation. If anything, she was rather strong willed and, a bit awkward; it almost felt like she was holding back at times. Serena tried, honestly tried to control her curiosity, but her eagerness won and she jumped at every opportunity to learn more about Bernie. She discovered that unlike Serena, Bernie did not have any managerial or specific academic aspirations, her favourite fruits were persimmons, and according to Bernie homemade apple and blackberries crumble with custard was a religious experience, with apples from the trees in the garden and blackberries her mum collected from the hedgerows. Her parents moved to the village last year _(Why had they moved, where from?)._ Serena watched Bernie absent mindedly tuck her hair behind her ears, even though there was none reaching her face as she retold the time she got stuck up a tree. Another twenty three intriguing and slightly disgusting medical conditions later Bernie’s stomach groaned loudly. Serena shot Bernie a curious glance.

“Would you like to get some coffee?” she joked.

“Hmm, it’s a bit warm for coffee for me, but I could go with some orange juice.”

“Orange? Not apple, or persimmon?” Serena winked as she stood up and started walking. Bernie quickly followed after her as she stifled a laugh.

There was a small café down the street from the library. They sat down and Bernie picked up the menu. The covers of the menu were made from old LP’s cut into rectangles, the pages printed with old covers. Serena watching intently as Bernie flipped it open, her fingers tracing the the edges and moving her finger over the ridges of the LP, making Serena’s stomach twist at the sight. Serena pushed the sensation down before it had a chance to bloom.

Bernie said how she thought it was pretty neat how they had done their menus, even if it was a waste of The Joshua Tree. She then prattled on about the rest of the interior with its bright plastic chairs in stark contrast to the stone walls, as she browsed the menu. Serena wasn’t listening, only nodding and humming slightly when needed.

“Coffee?” Bernie interrupted, staring over the menu.

“Uh... What?”

“I asked if you wanted coffee… For the third time.”

“Oh sorry, must have wandered off. But please, a coffee.”

“How do you want it?” Bernie didn’t probe as to where Serena’s mind had gone and made to stand up and order.

“Hot and strong is all I care about.”

Bernie raised a suggestive eyebrow and her lips curled up deviously, she didn’t say anything and simply turned on her heels and marched off to the counter.

They sat in companionable silence as Bernie tore into her sandwich, although halfway through her sandwich she slowed down and made to start their conversation anew. When both finished and they’d made to leave, Bernie rose whilst gesture for Serena to stay down.

“I’ll pay.” Bernie said.

“No, I’ll give you something and you can pay for us both.” Serena replied.

“But what if I want to pay?” Bernie looked up at her with what only could be coined as puppy dog eyes; _although cub would probably be the correct terminology._

“And what if I don’t want you to?” Serena stood up, unwilling to stare up at the blonde.

“It’s only a couple of quid.” Bernie was practically begging now.

“I could say the same to you.”

“But I offered first.” Bernie pouted now, Serena couldn’t help but take pity now and came up with a plan that would give the blonde at least a semblance of chance.

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it.”

“You’re having a laugh.” Bernie gave her a ludicrous look.

“Come on.” Serena sat down again and set her arm on the table.

“No.” Bernie shook her head.

“Yeah.” Serena nodded and reflexively shot her a flirtatious, daring look.

Bernie shrugged and smiled. “All right, it’s your funeral.” Almost as if she knew something Serena didn’t.

“Oh, we’ll see.” Their fingers brushed and if Serena would have paid attention, she could have seen Bernie swallow a shiver.

“Ready?” Their hands wrapped around each other.

“Yep.”

“Go!”

Bernie was stronger than expected. Serena pressed as hard as she could, nevertheless Bernie quite literally had the winning hand. She groaned as she pushed to push even harder.  
Bernie’s push weakened a bit, she was now groaning too. _Not in it for the long haul then._ Slowly but surely, Serena pushed her hand- _their hands_ down.

“Yes! Ha!” Serena exclaimed as Bernie’s hand hit the table.

“Who’d have thought it?!” Serena still wasn’t really paying attention, too giddy from her victory to see the small knowing shimmer in Bernie’s eyes.

“It’s not the dog in the fight, it’s the fight in the dog.”

Bernie crossed her arms and smiled.

“Well, I’ll have to go and pay then.” Serena said.

Bernie replied “I’ll see you outside.” as she leant down to pick up her bag.

“Yeah,” Serena bent over the taller girl’s shoulder and mocked “You can hold my coat,” as she passed Bernie her jacket.

They strolled back to the library, shoulders brushing. Serena asked if Bernie had actually seen anything of the village, outside the library and the café they’d just visited (which from Bernie’s fascination with the layout of their menu was obviously a place she’d never been before). She hadn’t. Rather than re-entering the library Serena stopped in front of it, explaining how the building had previously been a school and how her mother always talked about how she had climbed out of the windows on the ground floor before PE so she could escape her teacher who’d be waiting for her in the hallway. Serena wasn’t sure whether or not to believe the story till this very day, but had filed it away as a useful strategy to escape her own PE classes. The story earned Serena a loud snort followed by a chuckle as she recalled how her skirt had once gotten stuck on the windowsill, so stuck that she had in fact gotten off without her skirt and made a run for it over the school grounds, to steal something from the lost-and-found box. Needless to say Adrienne had not been amused and Serena had been grounded for what felt like an eternity, but the story seemed to entertain Bernie so in the end it had all been worth it. It made Serena wonder what Bernie sounded like when she was laughing, would it be soft and tinkling- matching her pastel blouses? Or would it be loud and strong like her hands grip? She suddenly longed to hear the sound, but unfortunately Bernie seemed to suppress every chance of laughing and outed her amusement with either snorting, smirking or grinning. They walked around the town centre a bit longer, before returning to the library to each pick up something to take home with them. Serena chattered on about all kinds of stories she had to tell about the place, like how someone had once dressed up the statute in the town square in a clown’s outfit and how it had taken the municipality weeks to remove it. Her mother, of course, had complained about with each following day, but her father had appeared to be rather amused; Serena had wondered if his mate Harry might have had something to do with it.  
As the shadows once more started stretching around them they made to say their goodbyes, this time Bernie was first to speak, a shy smile playing on her lips.

“Tomorrow? Same place, same time?”

Serena replied “Yes, if you won’t be tardy that is.”

“What would be ‘not tardy’ for you?”

“Noon?”

Bernie nodded and Serena noted how her cheeks seemed to glow in the saturated sunlight; they looked soft and round with Bernie pressing her lips together in a beaming smile. _She’d like to give her a hug, but was that too soon after only two days? Probably._ She squeezed Bernie’s forearm and returned her smiled, both her hand and eyes lingering a moment too long. Then, with a final squeeze, she turned around and walked home.


	3. Water and wine

In the days following they fell into an easy rhythm where they would meet up in the library around noon, spend some time together discussing all manner of things and then they’d go out for a coffee and something to eat. On Saturday the library would close early, and Serena is about to see if she’d take home anything, when she spots Bernie trying to slink off. She curiously eyes the other girl as she attempts to sneak around, albeit not very successfully. The way her shoulders tense and her eyes dart around immediately draws attention to whatever it is she does not want attention to be drawn to. Serena can’t help but quirk an eyebrow and suppresses a chuckle. She moves across the shelves, following Bernie unseen. _Now that’s how it’s done._ Bernie pauses, looks around quickly and darts into the row of shelves. Serena peeks over the books to see she is fully engrossed in whatever is on the shelves. She tries to read their spines, but finds that she can’t read them. She silently sneaks up to Bernie and casually leans against the shelf behind her. She can now make out the titles of the books and suppresses a giggle. _Oh._

“Looking for something?” Serena can’t help but ask, smiling smugly.

“… No.” Bernie says after a beat too long in an octave too high.

_Definitely not medicine._

“Are you sure?” Serena teases. “Not going to get yourself something extra to entertain yourself with?”

“What does it matter.” She sounds defensive now.

“Just wondering, every girl needs a hobby after all.”

Bernie is now looking away pointedly, fascinated with whatever Henrik was organising in the other end of the hall.

"Sorry if I’m nosey. Just being curious-”

“That’s fi-”

“-you didn’t strike me as the type for sleazy _"romance”_ novels, but to each her own. I’m not judging.“ Serena says airily pointing at the books on the top shelf, obviously fishing for a reaction which she instantly gets. Bernie’s mouth falls half agape, eyes blazing, she has started to sputter out a stream of puzzling sounds.

"I- I- Never! Why would I- ”

She ought to put the poor girl out of her misery, but she finds that Bernie’s wide-eyed stuttering and blushing is rather adorable. So rather than helping, she interrupts her incoherent defensive stutter to stir some more and laces her voice with suggestion. “Why anyone would bother with them is beyond me though, but if you’re searching I remember there being something more ‘visual’ somewhere on the top shelves with magazines-”

She is cut off before she can continue any further by Bernie blurting out, “No, I wasn’t looking for any of those, I swear!”

Serena leans back expectantly.

“Look down here- There’s other things here as well.” Bernie stutters.

Serena looks down. _Military medicine and infectious disease prevention in emergency situations._ She doesn’t understand and looks back up at Bernie.

“Like combat situations and other environments that don’t offer the usual equipment.” She shrugs.

Serena’s mouth falls open a little when she makes the connection. It isn’t what she had been expecting, although she wasn’t sure what she had expected.

Bernie explains she’s planning to join the army’s medical corps once she finishes her degree. _Berenice Wolfe, with her lithe and slightly hunched frame, in her long wavy skirt and her hair neatly tied together at her back, looked like a lot of things- but nothing like a soldier._ Serena catches herself thinking. When she voices that particular thought Bernie’s steely glance silences her in seconds.

“It’s just…” Serena’s face grows hot. “You don’t appear very …”

“Strong?” Bernie says and she can feel her cheeks burn at her own presumptuousness.

“I was going to say 'militant’… Can’t imagine you slinging someone over your shoulders and dishing out commands.”

Bernie’s eyes zero in on Serena, who has started fidgeting with her earrings.

“You don’t look like the army-type, that’s all.”

“You don’t think I could do it?” Bernie sounds accusatory.

“No of course not! Well, I- I- I just meant to say-” Serena stares down at her shoes, but is saved by Bernie.

“How about I prove it to you.” Bernie’s brown eyes twinkle conspiratorially.

_She has such warm eyes._

“And how exactly were you planning on doing that?” Serena arches her eyebrow. “Lift up a shelf? I can’t imagine Henrik appreciating that.”

“Not exactly a bookshelf, no. What about you?”

“What about me?” Serena asks, thrown off by the sudden question.

“I could lift you.”

Serena’s mouth falls wide open.

_Not. What. She. Expected._

Bernie grins like the Cheshire cat, all white teeth, round cheeks and twinkling eyes causing Serena’s brain to short-circuit.

_But it’s not an unwelcome suggestion either?_

The prospect of the slim and apparently strong arms holding her up, encircling her, sends her heart into overdrive. While Serena desperately tries to gather her wits, Bernie steps in close and is now standing in front of her, hands resting on her hips in a challenge.

“Ehm… Okay?” Serena manages to stutter, still looking at Bernie with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Bernie, in turn, doesn’t budge and looks her straight in the eye.

“Ready, Miss McKinnie?” Her shoulders are set in a straight line and her feet are stood slightly apart; her entire stance telling Serena she’s more than ready to tackle the challenge.

Serena can’t help but nod weakly as she shrugs to signal her surrender. The other girl is now standing so close that she can faintly smell her soap. It’s fresh, with vague floral hints. She kneels down in front of Serena, confusing her for a moment. Then she feels a slim arm slipping beneath the insides of her knees as another wraps around her lower back. An unexpected loud shriek leaves her as soon as her feet start to leave the floor. But before Bernie can even stand up fully upright, Henrik suddenly appears next to them, clearly not amused.

“Ladies…” he says in a warning tone, giving both of them a very intense look. Bernie immediately puts Serena back down and Serena can feel herself turn red. She tries to offer him her most charming smile and find a reasonable explanation, but stutters slightly instead. Before much comes out, Henrik turns around and leaves again. No doubt off to attend to more of his assistant-librarian duties. The girls glance at each other for a moment, before going into a fit of hysterical giggling as they stumble out of the library, into the main hall, where they dissolve into full laughter --or in Bernie’s case: honking.

  
It surprises Serena a little. It isn’t a sound she had expected to come out of the otherwise self-contained girl. She’d expected something softer and more reserved- a bit more girlish. _Seems like she had been presumptuous once more._ Serena finds she strangely enjoys the sound unique to Bernie. She wouldn’t say it’s a particularly pretty or charming sound (far from), but she revels in hearing it. It feels as if for a moment Bernie - the actual Bernie, not the facade of pastel blouses and neatly pulled back hair  - shines through. She finds she likes it.

Bernie waves her hands around wildly as she manages to speak short phrases between her outbursts of laughter; something about Henrik and the look on his face and the one on her own apparently. Serena is too caught up in the sensation blossoming in her stomach to pay attention. It takes root in her abdomen, then sprouts to her chest and thrives there. She tries to ignore it, knowing full well it was ridiculous to develop crushes on people you’d known less than a week, but also feeling uncomfortable with it being Bernie. _A girl._ Even if it was just a silly crush, it didn’t help her in finding a way to process it. Not that it mattered, Bernie didn’t look like the queer-type with her long hair in a tight twist and neat pastel blouses. _And she honestly hoped she didn’t look it either._

Bernie has calmed down a bit and is now leaning her hand on a pillar. Serena lets her body fall against the pillar opposite and eyes Bernie curiously.

“But why do you secretly check out books anyway? It’s not like you’re sneaking around with porn,” she asks, but is surprised when she sees the other girl blush a little. “-not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Serena quickly adds. _Avenues to explore another time,_ for now she’s genuinely interested why one would sneak around with medical books.

After a brief, albeit awkward silence, Bernie answers in an almost hushed voice. “I’m not sure my parents would approve, especially my mother. They’re - ehm - a bit traditional- so I’m not quite sure what they’d have to say about me…  y'know-” She waves her hands around vaguely, willing Serena to understand the words she isn’t speaking.

“What they’d have to say about you going out there to save lives?” she comments, the criticism clear in her voice.

“It’s the military part they-” Bernie tries, but Serena cuts her off.

“I don’t see why they would. Apparently you’re not only willing to save lives, but also ready to put your own life on the line doing so?” She blushes at that and fidgets with her skirt, but Serena continues, “They should be proud, honestly. Have you told them?”

Bernie shakes her head. “My brother is currently completing his officer training; I wouldn’t want to steal the spotlight.”

That throws Serena off guard. “Your brother is also joining?” Bernie nods. “And you think they wouldn’t let you join why exactly?” She has to refrain from throwing her hands into the air.

“Half my family is or was part of the army actually, but just never any women. I’d be the first… And my mother is rather strict on the whole 'femininity’ thing… Especially with my brothers being, well, male.” Bernie grins and shrugs a little, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders.

 _Hence the long skirts_ she thinks, but doesn’t press the matter any further. _It seems sensitive._

“Are you the youngest then?”

“No, I’ve got one younger brother, but he’s off to Edinburgh- Engineering.”

“Impressive-” But before Serena can continue asking about Bernie and her family, she spots Henrik walking towards them. The library is about to close and he reminds them to pick up their bags and books, dryly remarking he wouldn’t want to be responsible for any withdrawal symptoms. After packing their bag and helping Henrik to close up (they might as well), all three of them are stood outside and Bernie turns to the tall Swede. “Why are all the military medicine books grouped together with the 'sleazy romance’ novels? It doesn’t make an awful lot of sense.”

"So... I was wondering, would you maybe like to go out go out for a drink later tonight? Somewhere after dinner?" Serena intermits when she gets the chance, but then realises this might sound a bit like she's asking her out on a date and  panics a little. If she's honest, the prospect of having Bernie to herself makes her nervous- of course it isn’t as if they don’t spend their days together now, but that’s… different? Her mind races for a solution and then she finds one standing right next to her,  so she quickly adds "Henrik- Maybe you'd like to come along?"

He doesn't answer at first, but offers her a surprised look instead before agreeing to join them tonight. Bernie seems to be fine with it all and offers Serena a wide grin. They agree to meet up again at one of the local pubs and then all set off home for dinner.

"

Dinner is an unimpressive affair and Serena finds herself mentally preparing and replaying conversations in her head. Afterwards, it’s time for her second confrontation with the closet that day. For some reason, her casual night out with Bernie is now causing her as much stress as last year’s gala. In other words: the floor around her mirror is now covered with the contents of her closet as she put on the jeans again she had already put on and discarded three times. They are a bit too tight, but her skirts are either a bit too old or would make her mother commit second-degree murder… The jeans would have to make do. Seeing as she is already late, a black vest and her favourite oversized jacket go over it and she quickly ties her trainers. She’s already halfway out the door when she hears her parents wish her a fun evening. This time, she skips - almost runs - down the pavement, nervous excitement rushing through her.

  
When she arrives, Bernie and Henrik are already seated in a one of the booths to the side and Serena quickly slips in next to Bernie. Serena is surprised to find that, despite her somewhat frail appearance, Bernie does know how to drink. She starts with an ale, but soon starts working her way through whiskey and bourbon. She almost feels intimidated by her company, almost. Bernie might know her way around hard liquor, but Serena was still the undefeated champion of red wine. Henrik however, contends himself with several pints of cider. Somewhere halfway through the evening Bernie starts calling him 'Hanssen' which Serena finds fits him better. He, in turn, settles on calling Bernie 'Miss Wolfe,’ although Serena stays 'Serena'. And despite his relative silence, the Swede is good company.  Every now and again he would tell a good story or throw in a razor-sharp comment, which is very much appreciated by both girls.

  
Normally his stories about Swedish med school and his experiences abroad would have interested her, but Serena finds her eyes wandering to the girl next to her as he talks. Her hands are long and elegant, much like the rest of her. It is even made more alluring now that she knows how much strength her slender frame hides. If Hanssen notices she isn’t really paying attention he doesn’t show it. It’s in those dim lights, surrounded by the clamour of voices and tinkling glasses that Bernie comes alive. She seems more relaxed than usual as she gestures and enthusiastically relays a story about her father being stationed in Sweden; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and some of her hair has fallen out of the ponytail. Strangely enough, it suits her much better than the neat braids.

When she sits down after getting their next round she can feel Bernie’s skirt rustle against her leg. It wasn’t deliberate, but she cannot find it in her to move away as Bernie doesn’t seem to notice. Encouraged by the rush she carefully shuffles closer. Her intention was to maybe faintly touch her leg - just gently brush against her - but Bernie shifts unexpectedly and their thighs are now firmly pressed together. Serena’s entire body tenses at the contact as her nerve endings light up, sparking like fireworks. Her stomach twists as her heart is about to hammer out of her chest; she’s glad for the wine and the dim light hiding her blushes. Bernie either doesn’t mind or doesn’t notice as she’s still talking animatedly with Hanssen, waving her hands around and her mouth in a broad smile. She gradually relaxes into the contact and Serena isn’t sure whether it’s her or Bernie, but they slowly lean into one another until she can smell the scent of Bernie’s skin. It stirs something deep within her and it tempts her to close her eyes and let the sensations wash over her: Bernie’s voice, her smell, her touch and most importantly the soft, yet firm pressure of her Bernie’s thigh pressed against her own. Her thoughts go on. _Would her stomach be slightly toned?_ Serena hopes so. The idea of feeling the firm muscle under soft skin incites a sudden hot, dampness between her legs. She resists the temptation to squirm and press her thighs closer together. Those last three glasses of wine would probably find their way back to her by way of a pounding headache come morning, but it was a price she was willing to pay for feeling Bernie’s warmth beside her.

It is probably the alcohol in her veins that make her mind turn and twist in strange ways as she finds herself imagining running her hands over Bernie’s legs; feeling the firmness of her muscle and squeezing. Sliding her hands up over her hips, grabbing and pulling them flush against each other. She grows hot as tension builds within her and it’s only vaguely that she hears Hanssen ask if anyone wants another drink as he’s getting the next round. There’s one large swig left in her glas and her fingers feel strange as she takes hold of the glass and gulps it down before requesting another glass. Safe in the knowledge she won’t remember the next morning she indulges herself, because there is no problem as long as she won’t remember the next morning.  
  
_Unlike Stepney._  
  
Before her thoughts can continue their explorations she’s interrupted by the sudden sensation of Bernie’s voice. "I'm having a good time, but I really have to leave in a bit..." Serena feels her stomach drop and Hanssen shoots her a questioning eyebrow, it’s barely twelve. Although it might be for the best if she were to leave now. "Church. My parents go every Sunday and they prefer me there as well--it's a family-traditional-Sunday thing," she slurs slightly.  
  
She suddenly realises Bernie is looking at her expectantly; waiting for her to say something before she leaves. But ‘I’m thinking of exploring your body with my mouth’ probably isn’t acceptable though.

_Casual. Act casual! Tell a joke?_

  
Serena smirks. "Good luck, hope you won't have too much of a headache tomorrow morning. Although it might just work in your favour!" Hanssen made one of his enigmatic expressions and Bernie just looks at her in plain confusion. "My mother used to drag me along whenever she could, until one blessed morning I was still _influenced_ by the previous night and almost wretched as soon as the organ started playing.They're not really compatible with a pounding hang-over I found." She winks as she finishes and they laugh. Serena is relieved, that went better than expected. Then another unexpected sensation sparks through her. It starts in her hand as a soft tingle, but quickly spreads and it is not before long it burns everywhere. Bernie’s hand gently grips her own and her thumb strokes the palm of her hand. It lasts all but a moment, but Serena find herself caught in those long seconds. Just before Bernie disentangles their fingers, Serena manages a weak squeeze and she can see Bernie’s face light up. And it might just be her, but she vows she can feel Bernie’s hand brush her thigh when she gets up and leaves.

 

The rest of their evening passes in companionable conversation, exchanging all kinds of stories and with Henrik, or Hanssen, teaching her to pronounce all kinds of Swedish dishes and phrases, or well, a variety of pick-up lines ( _"What, you'll never know when you'll need it!"_ ). The tall Swede who turns out to be surprisingly good drinking company and Serena and Hanssen turn out to be more similar than either might have expected; both ambitious and intelligent, but most importantly: not demeaning in the slightest and a head for business. She'd be honoured to call him a friend. They stay until last call and he insists on walking her home, but for once she can't sense any underlying intentions, so she accepts.

  
When she gets home, she finds her mother has gone up to bed while her father is still sat in the living room watching a footie replay. He also hasn't missed the beanpole at the door, "The tall lad blocking out all the light," he jokes.

"He's a friend, really."

"A friend who walks you home?" he quips back.

"A friend who has some _actual_ manners, I thought you’d approve." They both chuckle at that and her father scoots over on the couch so she can sit down next to him. She leans her head on his shoulder as she vaguely watches the small figures on the screen run around the green field. Inhaling the familiar scent of aftershave, tobacco and something that is uniquely her father, she asks the question that has inexplicably been floating atop her drunken consciousness.

"D'you love me, dad?"

"Of course..." She can sense a slight the bewilderment in his voice, but continues.

"Whatever happens?"

"Always." She smiles. Even if she isn't quite sure why she asked, the answer fills her with a feeling warmth and safety. "You're my daughter, whatever happens... Or whatever lad you end up bringing home." He chuckles and hugs her. She feels serene.

  
That night in bed her dreams are filled with flurries of long hair, the rustling of a long skirt and honking laughter. Would she have been less drunk, she might have remembered the phantom sensation of soft lips on hers or long, delicate fingers in her hair. Her dreams are fill up with it until it threatens to spill over. Serena finds herself waking up searching for the source of the voice she hears and the warmth associated with it, but falls asleep curled around her pillow. But she has had more than one drink too many and she doesn't remember a thing when the sound of her mother showering downstairs wakes her up. Only a fleeting feeling of loss and urgency crosses her mind, as if something important is leaving her as she wakes, but she cannot pinpoint what.  
  
  
""

Despite her looming hangover a foreign energy seems to **propel her from her bed. Her head and limbs ache from the previous night, yet she feels awake and clear headed. A quick splash of water at the sink in the corner of her room rids her of the worst evidence of her previous night, she throws on one of her neater skirts and blouses and **carefully descends. The sound of the shower running has stopped, but she isn't down yet. Her father is sitting at the kitchen table sipping his tea and reading a newspaper- still in his comfortable jumper and shirt which he'll change out of five minutes before they leave as he finds his neater one itchy. For a moment, she pauses to take in the familiar scenario. There is something peaceful about watching the steam rise from his cup as he stirs his milk in. He raises his eyebrow when she sits down, she raises her in return.

 "What?" she asks, a fraction of defiance seeping through into her voice.

"You're up early." ' _After last night'_ she can hear him add silently and she only shrugs in return.

"Woke up early by chance, thought I'd join you at church today, for a change..."

He is both entertained and a tad confused by her response and snorts. "Library and church? Has your mother finally gotten to you, what's next? A boyfriend?" His eyes squint suspiciously at her and he leaves an unspoken comment about Henrik walking her home hanging in the air between them. 

She shakes her head and says she'd just like to do her mother a favour as she hadn't been home that much. He doesn't look convinced, but doesn't question her any further and instead shouts up to let Adrienne know. After a "What?" and a repeated shout, this time slightly more aimed at the stairs, she bellows in return, "Well, you bloody better tell her not to start retching again as soon as we start off. I know Margaret's playing is dreadful, but it doesn't quite warrant Serena throwing out whatever muck she was drinking last night."

The struggle to keep her laughter in is reflected on her father's face as her mother rambles on in complete seriousness. When she finishes her father takes a deep breath and manages to throw back a very constrained, "Of course, darling." Serena snickers and makes herself some toast.

The church is already quite full when they enter. Serena still isn't sure what has driven her here this morning, or so she tries to tell herself. There’s the smell of old hymnals and aged wood, the soft clamour of voices and children and the slightly damp feeling of a building built before modern insolation. Religion might be more her mother’s cup of tea, but churches bring her a curious calm. She gets the customary biscuit and cup of tea before starts to wander around. Some people greet her and ask how university has been so far, in return she asks about their families, children, jobs and whatever else she still remembers. Last Christmas’ midnight service had been her last attendance and together with her father they had made sure to help themselves to some mulled wine beforehand. Naturally, some of the finer details had faded.

  
Eventually, she finds herself searching out a certain familiar face. And sure enough, she spots it soon enough and excited relief washes over her. Bernie seems pretty much engrossed with her parents, her hair is braided and Serena finds it doesn’t suit her. It enforces the image she is beginning to see through. The long skirts and neatly braided hair don’t seem to suit the girl who was happily knocking back whiskey last night, nor the girl who arm wrestled her to decide who could pay. Nevertheless, it’s a great opportunity to observe the other girl which she does extensively. Something draws her in and she is curious to pinpoint what it is. Unfortunately, ( _or is it fortunate?_ ) Bernie turns her head and looks straight at her. It is as if she is in freefall; her pulse races and she can feel her heart beating in her throat as her palms grow sweaty. For a moment Serena no longer sees or smells or hears the church around her. _She’s smiling at me._ Bernie is beaming at her from the other side of the church. Her face is lit up by the soft light falling through the tall windows and she can’t help but smile back. Soon enough she turns back to talk with her parents and the people surrounding them, but Serena keeps thinking about how the curve of her lips and how her nose had crinkled.

When the service is about to start, she finagles them a place from where she has perfect sight of Bernie without needing to obviously stare. It isn’t that the service isn’t interesting - some of it is - but Bernie is a more deserving object for her attention. She turns her head a few times, as if searching. _Could she be searching for me?_ She barely dares to think it, but indulges in the thought- even if it is more likely she’s just looking around.

  
Serena manages to pay attention for approximately ten minutes, mainly because they are filled with a lot of standing up, singing, sitting down and singing some more. Her mother pulls her down as she almost stands up for the second song as well -- it’s all very confusing -- and she swears her father snorts at that. The preacher seems to be about a son who leaves home and returns in the end- _Was that a very pretentious way of saying boozing and whoring?_ But soon she feels her attention shift. Bernie’s presence alone seems to drown out the minister’s  as Serena feels herself gravitating towards her. It might be the impending headache from last night, but it feels like pure electricity coursing through her veins. It almost feels as if _both_ of them are closer together. Serena’s head spins whenever she dares to glance at the other girl to admire the way her face lights up. Her hair glows a dark gold in the sunlight, Bernie must have dragged her fingers over the braid -- _She does that often --_ because bits have fallen out. The loose strands frame her face and not for the first time Serena wonders how it would feel under her fingers. For a moment she makes a botched attempt at paying attention to the service, but a curious wanting keeps stirring at the back of her mind. It is however soon replaced by something different- even more intense. Her heartbeat quickens and the strings now spun between them tugged at her chest as she longs to be closer to Bernie. To just touch her- feel those long fingers entwined with her own, stroke her hair, feel warmth, hold her-

  
Then something unexpected happens. As if burned by Serena’s gaze Bernie turns to look straight at her. It’s too late now to shift and pretend to be paying attention to the service. She quickly averts her eyes, overwhelmed by heavy feelings, unsure what to do and thoughts still spinning and twirling. Vague images and sounds from last night wash over the shores of her memory, white foam concealing what she’s trying to see so desperately. When Serena looks up the first thing she sees are a pair of warm brown eyes, concerned. The sound of her heartbeat is deafening, it’s a miracle it isn’t sounding through the church; screaming for attention.

_Bernie._

Just as she is convinced her heart might give a final flutter and give out completely her mind connects. All she wants to do is kiss her. Soft and gentle, but also long and intense. Pull her close. Serena finds herself indulging in those thoughts for a moment, before realising she’s still looking at Bernie- who is looking back with a strange look in her eyes. A sudden panic washed over her- How much of her emotions had been visible on her face just now? The excited flutter in her chest now feels constraining and the benched cramped. She needs space and she needs it now. _Bathroom._ Her mother shoots her an annoyed look as she gets up and shuffles away. _Whatever._

  
When she turns around she’s met with a sight that makes her heart drop. Awkwardly shuffling out in a rustle of skirt, annoyed glares and willful determination is Bernie, all wide-eyes and concerned look, definitely following her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always a massive thanks to those who have been supporting, cheerleading and proofreading! Without them I'd probably have deserted this fic long ago. Give some love/comment if you enjoyed this instalment (not sure if I should continue it), but also think of the dearly beloved GinDiva and Regency!


	4. Send a prayer

Serena rushes into the bathroom, lightheaded, nausea making her grip the sink till her knuckles turn white. She fights the unwanted rush and tries to catch her breath. Bernie is going to come through this door any second and having a panicked meltdown in front of her wouldn’t be exactly convenient. Unwanted memories of Stepney enter her thoughts. Messy blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and a tight leather jacket flash through her mind.  _ Not the moment for this _ . Another memory surfaces, this time of a pair of thin pink lips that she knows to be soft.  _ Would Bernie’s lips be equally soft?  _ Just as she started imagining what Bernie would feel and look like, eyes half closed and cheeks flushed, she came bustling through the door.   
  
“Serena, are you okay?” The concern is obvious in Bernie’s voice. Her eyes are probably wide open.  _ They’re very pretty, such a warm colour. Similar, but still very different from- _ Again, she has to cut herself short. Serena had sworn to herself that it had been a mistake, a temporary misstep. But then why did she find her mind returning? And more importantly, why was she experiencing similar feelings for Bernie now?   
  
Not trusting her voice yet, she nods in response, still looking down at her hands clutching the sink. Bernie continues, taking another step towards her. “You sure? You don't look it.”

Serena still hasn't turned to look at Bernie when she answers, “Must be last night disagreeing with me. How do you look so well?”  
  
“Forged by fire and whisky--repeatedly.” The lopsided grin is practically audible in Bernie’s voice. Serena raises her eyes from her hands to look at Bernie in the mirror to find her grinning indeed and can’t help but snort. She can’t say she’s surprised anymore and finds herself turning around to raise an eyebrow. “ -that and my brother’s stash of In-bru,” Bernie continues.   
  
“I'm pretty sure that’s cheating,” Serena replies. Both girls are smiling now.   
  
Serena’s heart is still hammering in her chest, but she’s oddly calmed down. Bernie is still Bernie and is still her friend. And even outside of this sudden realisation that she’d like to repeatedly kiss her, Serena still values their friendship. 

As if reading her mind, Bernie walks towards her and squeezes her arm, before retrieving a small water bottle from her shoulder bag. Her slender fingers brush hers when Serena takes the bottle and the contact sparks a barely suppressed shiver inside her. 

_ Friends. _ _   
_ __   
“You okay to go back in a bit?”   
  
Serena only nods, her throat is dry and constricted.

Everyone is still focussed on the service when they exit the bathroom. In order not to disturb again - and incur the wrath of Mrs Johnson who is seated next to Bernie’s family - they settle themselves in one of the empty benches at the back. The wood is cold and smooth to her touch, but does nothing to ease the burning sensation in Serena’s skin. The air around her seems to buzz when Bernie sits down closely next to her and this time she cannot suppress a shiver. Bernie notices and gives her a concerned look. It doesn’t make things any better for Serena. She swallows hard and suddenly the air around her feels thin. Her head spins and her stomach flutters. In response, Bernie shuffles closer yet and grabs Serena’s hand in what must have been meant as a comforting gesture and rubs the pad of her thumbs over the back of her hand. Serena thinks her pulse must be in the 180 range, to say nothing of her blood pressure. Nevertheless, she squeezes Bernie’s hand lightly and neither of them dares to look at the other. Both interpret it as a friendly gesture and are unwilling to turn and see that sentiment actually reflected on the other’s face. Instead they keep looking straight ahead, but neither lets go. 

Serena can feel her palm go damp and swears that every nerve ending is firing away at an impossible speed, but finds herself unable to move. It’s as if she is suddenly ten years younger, on a bench in the park holding hands with James Cartwright--probably the last time she had made such a fuss about holding hands. But deep down she knows exactly what is making her so nervous.  _ Holding a woman’s hand.  _ She feels a curious desire stirring in her mind and body as she feels each and every touch of the other woman amplified on her own skin, but also petrifying fear. Fear because she doesn’t know what she is doing, but also fear because deep down she knows exactly what is happening.  _ And what if she’s just being friendly? She would most likely be disgusted if she knew what you were thinking.  _ _   
_ _   
_ Bernie is a woman. She’s  _ not _ supposed to do this, to feel this.  _ And it isn’t even the first time. _   
Serena’s mind is stuck in a loop and she blankly stares at the minister, his words drowned out by her heartbeat. Her teeth catch her bottom lip and she nervously bites the inside. Her eyes dart around as she takes in the people in front of them.  _ What would they think? Let’s not think about it. _ She finds her parents, sitting together with some friends of her mother. Her mother would be disapproving, maybe even angry. Her father--the thought hurts her. He’d probably be sad or disappointed, try to accept it and maybe even console he, but it wouldn’t be the same. That is, if she would just try it--experiment. She’s young; it’ll be a phase.  __ That’s what they call it, right? But that thought doesn’t halt her fear of the possible consequences. Her parents, but also her friends and career. It is both fear and anticipation that’s making her shake and tremble. She slowly runs her thumb over Bernie’s knuckles. The movement is barely noticeable, but Serena is sure she feels an impossibly soft squeeze and can’t help but smile.The innocent opportunity to sit there, yet fully aware of all the future possibilities, creates a delicious tension, even if laced with nauseating fear. 

So they sit together until the end of the service.

It’s only when the minister bows his head and closes his eyes for the last prayer that they dare to move again. Bernie turns to look at her and Serena can see her swallow before offering a weak smile. There’s an eerie tension between them as they sit together and look at each other while all others have their eyes closed and heads bowed in prayer. Serena feels her stomach sink when Bernie lets go of her hand but is surprised when instead Bernie moves to wrap her arm around her shoulders and pull her close. The embrace is clumsy and awkward, but Serena finds herself releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding. Rather than feeling tense, she feels at ease in Bernie’s embrace and feels her relaxing as well. It’s strangely serene, but over all too soon as Bernie pulls away and gestures at the minister; the prayer is almost over, she’d better get back to her family. And just as the first people start to get up and set off to get some tea and biscuits, she gives Serena a final squeeze and stands up.

 

After the service she sees Bernie look up a few times, but she stays with her parents. She simply smiles apologetically. When Serena and her parents walk out of the church, she turns around to look at Bernie one last time, causing her to walk into her father’s back. Her parents have stopped unexpectedly; her mother seems to have spotted yet another friend of hers. Serena rolls her eyes and sees her father do the same as he searches for a cigarette. They slowly but steadily make their way out (but not before Adrienne has at least agreed to bake two cakes and sorted out four invitations for afternoon tea). Just as her mother is going on about the Sunday roast and how no one ever helps her, she stops and squints her eyes at something. Serena and her father turn to see what it is she's looking at.

It turns out that both mother and daughter have developed an interest in one Berenice Wolfe, although the look on Adrienne’s face makes it abundantly clear that her interest is of a different nature than her daughter’s. Her mother is looking at Bernie and her parents, studying them. It’s her look of intrusive curiosity, one that is well known in the McKinnie household. She glances at her father who only shrugs and wordlessly tells her, “ _ She’s probably heard one rumour or another. It’ll be the usual. _ ” 

Her mother turns and asks, “Isn’t that the girl you go to the library with?” Her eyes set sharply on Serena now.   
  
“Yes, together with Hanssen--Henrik I mean,” she answers casually, trying her best to not seem too keen on Bernie.   
  
“So, you know-” Adrienne seems about to ask something when her father suddenly interrupts, “The tall guy from last night?” 

This draws her mother’s attention and she instantly enquires after Hanssen and who exactly he is. Serena, however, is distracted by a certain brown-eyed girl looking at her and misses the dangerous glint in her mother’s eyes completely. Bernie is watching her from where she is standing with her parents. Serena is only half paying attention to her mother’s cross-examination when Bernie winks at her. Her cheeks light up and she starts to sputter, something her mother instantly misinterprets and Serena only realises her mistake a second too late.  _B_ _ut it is too late._   
  
Her mother seems to think it is her questioning about Hanssen that has made Serena blush, so now she has now latched on to the concept of one Henrik Hanssen as a potential boyfriend. Serena looks to her father for support, who is torn between grinning and feeling sorry, so he jumps into the breach for her. Or so he thinks. Sensing his daughter’s obvious discomfort, her father proposes to invite Bernie as well. Serena isn’t sure whether she’s eternally grateful for the extended invitation or wishing to undo the past five minutes. _At least she’ll have three other dinners and five cakes to organise first. Small mercies…  
_  
Bernie is walking back home in opposite direction, but Serena manages to catch her eye. Bernie smiles and waves, and then sets off home. A car passes and when Serena watches again she thinks she can just see another tilt of Bernie’s head, __had she also looked back again? She steals a last glance and then they round the corner, making Bernie disappear from sight permanently.

Serena spends most of her Sunday confused and thinking about how good Bernie’s hand had felt in hers and how soft it had felt when Bernie hugged her. She goes out for a walk in an attempt to clear her mind, but no matter where she walks her mind always finds its way back to Bernie. Stepney also finds its way back into her thoughts which seems to be happening more and more often these days. For the first time she wonders what exactly she had felt back then and what exactly  _ had _ happened in Stepney.  _ Had she loved her?  _ Her mind keeps going in circles, always returning to the same questions and thoughts,  _ and long hair and soft lips. _ Serena needs to talk to someone, someone she can trust. Sian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a slightly shorter update than usual since I'm still working on my December creative challenge :) (And because short updates work better with work) Hope y'all enjoyed it, more is on its way somewhere the next 1,5 week I hope. (I'm also sort of not sure where to take it plotwise since I don't like my original plan anymore. Help.) And as always thanks to my lovely betas GinDiva and Regency, their help and support is very much invaluable.


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